Broken Pieces
by RainaWrites
Summary: In an alternate universe, William Riker chose love AND a career. But in this universe, the future is dark and war-laden. Read about one family's fight for survival in a series of events that will come to alter things in a familiar universe as well.
1. A Long Goodbye

Crystal clear water cascaded down a mossy mountainside. Flowers decorated boulders at the bottom, their faces turned towards the mist of the falls as though in worship of its beauty. Overhead, a canopy of stars danced their summer exaltations. And all the while, a pair of lovers bathed in soft moonlight as they lay, passionately preoccupied, on the jungle floor.

William Riker pulled away, sweaty and beaming. His heart still raced from the euphoric rush that had moments ago filled the jungle with their intimate cries. Echoes of lingering pleasure rippled across his skin, touching the edge of his very soul.

Beneath him, Deanna Troi's eyes glimmered with adoration. Her fingers ran up the back of his neck and through his short, dark hair. "I will miss this," she whispered.

He sank onto his side, using an elbow to prop himself up. "I know what you mean. I don't want this night to end."

"But it has to." Her smile turned rueful. "You belong to the Potemkin now."

"No." He brushed aside the long ebony tresses clinging to the sweat of her neck. "I belong to you. My imzadi."

"For tonight, yes." She pushed herself into an upright position, one leg curled beneath her and the other stretched across the cool ground. "But I know how important your career is."

"My career?" he repeated, a touch of disdain in his voice. "How can you talk about my career in a time like this?" He drew himself up behind her, encircling her with his arms. "I'd rather talk about your hands, and the things you can do with them. Your lips, and the way they steal my breath. Your voice, when it can only remember my name in the deepest of throes."

Deanna leaned against him, feeling the hair of his chest tickle her bare back. "Oh, Will," she teased. "You've always been smooth when it comes to words."

"Not as smooth as your skin." He kissed her shoulder. "Even the moonlight tries to imitate its silky complexion, its perfect glow..." He continued to kiss her, letting his lips wander from her shoulder to the side of her neck. One of his hands slid sensuously across her thigh.

" _Will!_ " she scolded, though her smile grew wider. "Haven't you had enough?"

"Of you? Never." His hand slid further up her thigh, eliciting a soft moan.

"Imzadi...listen." Reluctantly, she placed her hand over his to halt it from migrating any further. "Tomorrow is almost here. And you still have to sleep at some point. I'm afraid it's time to say goodbye."

"I can't say goodbye. Not to you." He continued to nuzzle against the side of her neck.

"Well you can't stay here."

"Then come with me," he whispered. "Join me on the Potemkin."

"Come with you?" she balked, pulling away from his kisses and craning her neck to look him in the eye. "But I can't! It's too dangerous! Besides, what would I even do on a starship?"

"Make love to me."

She stifled a laugh. "Besides that."

He let his gaze wander towards the star-dappled heavens. "Anything you want. Imagine the possibilities out there. The life-changing discoveries just waiting for someone to stumble upon them."

She shook her head with a click of her tongue. "What universe are you living in? It's a battlefield out there! Nothing but war at every turn. People are saying that next, the Romulans will start things up again."

"People have been saying that for years. It's just a bunch of fear-mongering. And I won't let fear rule my life." He pulled her closer. "I prefer to let passion do that."

She smiled wryly. "I'll bet you say that to all the pretty women you meet on your travels."

"What pretty women? I can't remember any but you." He resumed kissing the side of her neck. "You have redefined beauty. Even the stars look different to me now."

She smiled in the wake of his adulation. "Oh yeah? How so?"

"They used to entice me more than anything in the world. All throughout the Academy, I dreamt of spaceships. Of freedom. But now...you're all I want."

A somberness stole her smile. She shifted to the side, drawing her knees up as she nestled against his chest. He planted his palms on the ground, supporting them both. "And yet you still dream of spaceships," she said. "And freedom."

"Not freedom from you."

She breathed in deeply. His intoxicating scent filled her lungs, tempting her all over again. "Come on, Will. Let's just take tonight for what it is. A long goodbye."

"I told you-I can't say goodbye. Not to you. To this."

"Then what do you suggest? Other than uprooting my entire life by morning or giving up your career."

He paused for a pensive moment. "Well...I'll be done with the initial phase of my training in six weeks. What if I took my first leave and saw you then?"

"All the way out here? We'd barely have any time together. I can't make you do that-"

"Not here. On Risa. Meet me there, Deanna. Say you will."

She shifted again, turning until they were face to face. "I don't know…"

"Well I won't let you go until I know for sure that I'll see you again." A mischievous smile crossed his lips. "I'll stop the sun from rising if I have to."

"Is that so?" Her fingers trailed playfully up his chest. "Well in that case, I wouldn't mind if you put morning off for a _little_ while." His blood raced at the seductive invitation behind her eyes. She pulled her legs out from beneath her and wrapped them around his waist. "That way, I can give you something to think about for the next six weeks."

* * *

 _ **Six weeks later…**_

Deanna sat at the outdoor bar, a Samarian Sunset in hand. The sun sparkled on the ocean waves as they lapped at the shore. The hot, humid air kissed her skin. She closed her eyes, thinking of a different kind of kisses along her skin.

 _No._ She forced the thoughts from her mind. Her mother's warnings echoed in their place. _Be careful, little one. That's the kind of man who would choose work over the love of his life. You deserve more than that. You deserve a man who would choose you over life itself._

For two days she had waited there, hopefully glancing up at every tall figure that walked upon that beach, only to have her hope wither and die every time. No, he wasn't coming. All of his talk was just talk after all. In fact, he was probably giving that same speech to some blonde on the Potemkin at that very mom-

"Is this seat taken?"

Deanna's eyes flew open in disbelief. She found a familiar, endearingly lopsided smile shining back at her. " _Will!_ " She leapt up from her chair and into his open arms. He laughed, holding her tightly against him so that her feet lifted off the ground. "You...you came. You really came," she gushed, grabbing hold of his face and kissing him eagerly.

"Of course I came. I told you-I couldn't say goodbye." He kissed her back, just as eagerly, and then set her down again. "Now what's good to drink around here?"

"Just about anything," she replied, smiling. She returned to her seat at the bar, beckoning him to join her.

Will ordered himself a Makara fizz and then settled into the seat at Deanna's side. His eyes wandered over her lavender-colored sundress, which gathered at the top of her long, graceful legs. "I've got to admit," he said. "This is a much better view than anything the Potemkin can offer."

She laughed breezily. "How was your training then? Did it go well?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure. They even wanted to promote me."

"Promote you? Already? Wow!" She beamed with pride. "That makes you a...what, lieutenant-commander now?"

"No, no. Still just a lieutenant."

The bartender reappeared, placing a neon-pink concoction before the young man. Will nodded gratefully and drew the glass to his lips.

"What do you mean?" Deanna asked, her face wrenched in confusion over his last remark.

"I turned them down."

"You turned down a promotion? Why?"

"To come here. If I had accepted the promotion, I would have had to leave immediately for a survey of Argana II. There's no way I would have made it to Risa on time."

"Will…" She averted her gaze, staring down at the counter instead. "You didn't have to do that."

"Don't worry." He reached for one of her hands and gave it a squeeze. "There will be other opportunities. Besides, how can you talk about my career in a time like this?"

Slowly, her smile returned. "I suppose you want to talk about my lips and my skin and...something about the moonlight..."

"Yes, yes." Will took another sip of his drink and then set it down on the bar. "But it's much too warm out here. Shall we head to my room instead?"

"Oh, well, I think it will be even hotter in there." Something sultry and suggestive smoldered in her eyes.

"I hope so," he winked. He tugged on her hand and together they hastened from the bar.


	2. New Duties

**A/N: Yay, thanks so much for every review! So excited to see you guys following along. To my new followers, a huge thanks and welcome! :-) WIWJ-I had just taken a sip of Sprite when I read your review and...well basically...that was a bad idea lol. Sprite through the nose! I swear that was an accidental innuendo. Apparently, I do that a lot haha. Cubbiesfan1-So happy to see you! This is actually going to be a short little series of events from Carmen's universe, focusing on her parents. It will stand on its own, so you can definitely read this one before reading the other stories :-)**

* * *

"Would you like some tea?" Captain Jean Luc Picard gestured towards a tray that sat on the desk between him and the young Starfleet officer. Will politely accepted, picking up one of the steaming hot glasses and blowing across its surface.

"Now then…" Jean Luc settled into his padded seat. "It seems that I've been asking all the questions today. But did you have any for me?"

"Yes, sir. Just one." Will took a tentative sip of tea, but it proved too hot still. So he set the cup down on his lap and drew in a breath. "Why me, sir? The Enterprise will be Starfleet's new flagship. And you would choose me over...better men?"

"Better men?" Jean Luc arched an eyebrow. This Riker fellow hadn't struck him as particularly humble.

"Well...more _experienced_ men."

Jean Luc's smile softened with understanding. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the desk while holding his cup of tea aloft. "These are not the best of times, Mister Riker. To join the Federation is to inevitably join war. And so men with ambition run towards the ranks of Starfleet, crying for battle. But men with families...they have fallen quiet. They know something we don't."

"Sir?" Will found himself utterly intrigued-as well as utterly confounded. This captain was certainly not what he expected. He spoke of peace, yet prepared for war. He praised men with families, yet lived alone. And, perhaps strangest of all, he had chosen an inconsequential lieutenant from an inconsequential ship to be his first officer.

"You, Mister Riker, strike me as both types. You are ambitious, but your ambition is a different breed than theirs. And if I am not mistaken, you are a family man?"

"Yes, sir. I have a wife."

"No children yet?"

"No, no. No children, sir." Will waved one of his hands in a gesture that bordered on defensive. "Let's just say...I want to leave _something_ for all those better men."

Picard's face shone once again with a smile. "Still," he said. "I'm hoping that one day, you'll know something I don't."

* * *

 ** _One year later..._**

"Dr. Crusher!"

Beverly Crusher, a woman with flame-colored hair and the shrewdest of blue eyes, looked up from her patient. She recognized Oliveri and his perennial scowl stalking towards her. "What is it?" she called from afar.

But he waited until he was within closer range to reply. "It's him again." Oliveri jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "He's asking for you specifically. That's the third time today, you know. How are we supposed to get anything done with Commander Riker underfoot?"

"Why don't you take over for me here," Beverly offered. "And let me handle the commander." She imparted Oliveri with a brief set of instructions and then, putting on her most patient smile, walked towards the man waiting just inside of sick bay's entrance.

"Hello there, Will," she hailed the commander.

"Doctor!" His face flooded with relief. "I'm so sorry to bother you again. It's just-"

"Is she sick again?"

"Well, yes. I think it's because of all the scrambled eggs she's been eating. That's the only thing she ever wants to eat anymore, you know. And she doesn't even like scrambled eggs!" He shook his head wearily. "But anyways, that's not why I came. I'm here because she's insisting on taking a walk through the arboretum later. Do you think it's a good idea? Shouldn't she be resting?"

"Nonsense! Let her go. She's pregnant, not an invalid." Beverly planted a fist on her hip. "And didn't I tell you this morning that her cravings are perfectly normal?"

"Normal?" Will scoffed, scrunching his face together. "Nothing about this seems normal."

"Well it is. You two have nothing to worry about. Deanna's healthy. The baby is healthy. And before you know it, she'll be here!" The doctor's blue eyes glimmered wickedly. " _Then_ the worrying begins."

Will's shoulders sank with a sigh of despair. Beverly had just begun to turn back towards her work when she paused. She was accustomed to Commander Riker, the intrepid first officer of the Enterprise. Not this hopeless, weary, and worrisome soul that stood before her now. "Will, look…" She walked over to him and laced a reassuring arm around his back. "It's okay to feel scared. It's okay to feel...inadequate. Lots of first-time fathers go through this."

"This was never really part of the plan," he admitted. Maybe it was his exhaustion. Maybe it was the doctor's comforting touch. But whatever it was, Will could feel his chest filling with confessions. He took a deep breath, ready to let them out. "I mean, even captains and commanders get a break from their duties every once in awhile. But fathers? There's no end in sight for them. What if I scar my kid for life? What she grows up to resent me?"

"You mean the way you resent _your_ father?"

"Yeah." Will swallowed hard. "I guess...I guess I'm afraid that after all this time, I really am just like him."

"But you're not. Don't do that to yourself, Will. This little girl...she's going to look up to you. And-" The glimmer returned to her eyes. "If she's got your taste for danger, then _I'm_ the one who won't get any breaks!"


	3. Welcome Aboard

Beverly assembled her things together with a weary smile. She had dismissed the rest of her staff fifteen minutes ago, when the newborn's cries had subsided. And though she had stayed behind to offer additional help, she might as well have been invisible, for neither Will nor Deanna could spare a glance in her direction.

Will stood at his wife's bedside, gazing down at a bundle of blankets nestled safely in her arms. A tuft of raven dark hair poked out from the top of these blankets. Meanwhile, two bleary eyes fought fiercely to stay open.

"She doesn't want to sleep," Deanna laughed. "Look at her. She's going to be as stubborn as you!"

Will grinned. "Nah. She just can't believe how beautiful her mother is." He leaned down and kissed the side of Deanna's cheek. The baby gurgled and cooed as her mother's smile broadened.

Beverly straightened up, finished with packing her things. "Well I think she is going to be just as beautiful one day. She looks just like you, Deanna."

"You think so?" Deanna asked, still too enamored to look away. She traced her fingers lightly over the baby's face, memorizing each and every feature.

"Except for her eyes," Will pointed out. "They're blue."

Deanna's brow wrinkled. "Betazoids are born with dark eyes. Do you think that means she won't have any empathic abilities?"

"Time will tell," Will said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Then he paused, leaning closer as if noticing something for the first time. "Wait a minute…"

"What?" Deanna looked up at him, then back at the baby, searching for something amiss.

"Those look like Picard's eyes!" he exclaimed.

Beverly stifled a laugh from her side of the bed. "I think he's right! I'll have to put her in the system as Karina Picard instead of Karina Riker."

"Don't encourage him!" Deanna warned. But the corners of her eyes crinkled with a good-natured smile. "And anyways, I'm not sure anymore how I feel about the name Karina."

Will glanced at her with a tilt of his head. "I thought that's what we decided on?"

"I know, it's just...now that she's here, she doesn't look like a Karina to me."

"Well, let me know when you do come up with something," Beverly said. "In the meantime, try and get your rest. I'm just a page away if you need anything. Congratulations, you two."

"Thank-you, Beverly," Deanna called. Will echoed her sentiment. Then, as the doctor withdrew, he scooped up the bundled baby and lifted her close to his chest. She stirred as he pushed back an ebony wisp from her forehead, caught between wakefulness and slumber. "You know, Worf had a great suggestion the other day. He said she should have a strong name. A warrior's name. Something like…Krokma."

Deanna's face twisted in disgust. "Krokma?!"

"What, you don't like it?" Will smirked deviously. "I think it has a nice ring to it. Oh, and he offered bat'leth lessons as well. I said he could start as soon as possible."

Deanna crossed her arms. "I don't think our daughter would appreciate being raised as a Klingon."

Ignoring her, Will shifted the baby into the crook of his elbow. With his free hand, he gesticulated her arm in a defiant fashion. "One day, my enemies shall fear me! They will tremble at my feet!" he said in a deep voice. Deanna burst out laughing despite her attempts to remain stern. Encouraged, Will carried on. "And I will vanquish every last one of them with my bat'leth. For I am Krokma, of the House of Riker! Or possibly the House of Picard..."

"No more!" Deanna pleaded, holding her side as she laughed even harder. Will grinned, utterly pleased with himself. But the baby didn't appreciate being jostled from her cozy position. Her face scrunched together until it was beet red and then a ferocious cry belted from her lungs.

"Uh oh," Will said, making his way over to the window while he instinctively rocked her back and forth. "You're going to have to learn to take a joke, you know." He held her in the glow of the stars, which seemed to crowd outside their window for a glimpse of the Enterprise's newest member. But she refused their company, and her cries only rose in pitch and in fury. "Computer-" Will called over the clamor. "Play _No More Blues_."

The notes of a piano drifted towards them, playfully bantering with a double bass. Almost instantly, the baby quieted down. Her eyes opened wider, searching for the music as though it were something as tangible as her father's face.

"Good taste, kid," Will praised. "There's nothing like jazz. And Carmen McRae's got some of the best jazz there is." He began to sway back and forth, keeping time with the sultry chords. A woman's voice joined in, every word rolling across her tongue as easily as waves roll across the ocean.

 _No more blues, I'm goin back home,_

 _No, no more blues, I promise no more to roam,_

 _Home is where the heart is,_

 _The funny part is my heart's been right there all along_

Deanna smiled warmly at the scene. For a few moments, the universe felt a little smaller. A little cozier. "I think she knows this song. You played it so much while I was pregnant, she probably thinks Carmen is part of the family." Her smile froze suddenly. "Wait a minute-" she said, pushing herself up straighter. "What do you think?"

"About what?" Will asked.

"About Carmen being part of the family." Deanna nodded towards the baby in his arms. "She looks like a Carmen, doesn't she?"

When Will looked down, those newborn eyes had finally closed in sleep. Long, dark eyelashes fluttered gently with every breath. His gaze wandered from her hairline to the curve of her pudgy little chin, studying every detail thoughtfully. "You know what…" he said at last. "I think you're right." Smiling, he tucked the blanket tighter around her. "Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Carmen."


	4. Nightmares

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this so far :-)**

* * *

Deanna woke with a start. There had been no noise to shatter the peace of her sleep. Yet her ears rang with something dreadful, and a shiver rippled across her skin where a cold sweat had gathered.

"Imzadi...are you awake?" Her outstretched fingers searched for his shoulder in the dark, but they felt his empty pillow instead. "Will?" She tried a little louder. Her chest tightened with the apprehension of one who calls and is not answered.

Pushing the covers back, she swung her feet to the floor. Her attention-and her worry-now focused on the bassinet beside the bed. Holding her breath, Deanna slowly rose to her feet and peered over the cushioned edge.

A dark-haired baby slept soundly inside the bassinet. Every once in awhile she'd stir, and then suckle the side of her hand back to sleep. Deanna sighed, relieved, and ran her fingers gently across the baby's brow.

Something thumped in the living quarters, behind the bedroom door. Deanna's heart thumped as well. Her hand jerked back to her side. She swallowed hard, and then turned so that her body shielded the bassinet from whatever was behind the door.

 _Imzadi?_ She reached out with her empathic senses, feeling for that tender, familiar presence. But instead, she felt something cold. Cold and evil. A shadow crept under the door, lengthening itself towards her feet.

"Get back!" she cried, feeling for the bassinet behind her. But her hands clutched at emptiness. She whipped around to find that it had somehow moved several feet away. Meanwhile, the shadow continued to sidle across the floor. It enveloped Deanna's feet like a thick, sludgy mud. Its edges pulled forward like dozens of fingers reaching for the bassinet.

"No!" she screamed. "Leave her alone!" Deanna thrashed with all her might, but could not free her feet. Amidst her struggles, she caught a glimpse of the baby's face, still deep in a peaceful slumber, unaware of the evil creeping ever closer…

" _Carmen!"_

Once again, Deanna found herself waking with a start. She was back in her bed. This time, though, she was not alone.

"What is it? What's wrong with her?" Will wrestled with the covers, scrambling to sit up. But her urgency was too great to answer him at the moment. She shoved her feet to the floor and hurried to the bassinet.

Carmen's blue eyes shone in the dark. Her little fists began to wave excitedly at the sight of her mother, and she greeted her with a toothless smile.

"She certainly looks alright," Will said, drawing himself up to her side.

Deanna heaved out a breath. "Yes, she's...she's fine. I'm so sorry to wake you both."

"Nah, it's alright," he insisted. "Another nightmare?"

Deanna nodded. She placed a finger against Carmen's palm, smiling when her little hand closed around it.

"I asked Beverly about it earlier." Will gently pulled back the hair that had fallen over her shoulder and combed his fingers through it. "She said a lot of new mothers experience nightmares. Said it was perfectly norm-"

"This is different."

Deanna felt him wince, and it made her wince as well. She hadn't meant to sound so brusque. "It's just...it's always so vivid. So real," she whispered, leaning against his bare chest.

"Do you think it has to do with your Betazoid side?" His arms wound around her waist and pulled her even closer.

"Perhaps. I have heard that empaths can suffer terribly from things like that because of our sensitivities."

He grunted sympathetically. "Well trust me. Everything's just fine."

She lifted her face to look him in the eye. "You mean besides the fact that we're at war?"

"We're always at war," he quipped. "But we'll make it through this one. And the next."

The corners of her mouth lifted in a wistful smile. "Do you suppose the Enterprise will ever go back to being a research vessel?"

"Sure I do." He bent down and kissed her forehead. "Maybe not in our time. But maybe one day, Carmen will get to be an explorer. Or a famous jazz musician."

The baby babbled vigorously upon hearing her name. Her little arms reached out in front of her, demanding to be held. Will laughed.

"You like that idea?" he asked, lifting her from the bassinet. She babbled some more, delighted by his attention. "Well, you've got a lot to learn about this big old universe. But it's not so bad. I mean, at least you're on a ship as grand as the Enterprise."

He bounced her lightly on his way back over to the bed. "Tell you what-" he said to Deanna. "There's plenty of room here. Maybe your nightmares won't come back if she's close by."

Deanna brightened at his idea. "Sounds good to me," she said, taking Carmen as he climbed into bed and fixed the covers that had been pushed back in haste. Then she joined him, laying the baby down between them.

Carmen voiced a contented sigh to be surrounded by the warmth and safety of her parents. It wasn't long before her eyelids drooped and her breathing slowed to a regular rhythm. Deanna watched, smiling to herself. The fear of her nightmares faded away, far out of reach. The darkness became tranquil instead of foreboding. And her imzadi's reassurances bounded through her mind, summoning dreams of a peaceful Enterprise and a grown-up Carmen. The young woman wore a uniform, but not a soldier's uniform. And she was happy, for she was still surrounded by the warmth and safety of a family.

* * *

As time wore on, the nightmares failed to make a reappearance. Deanna lulled herself into believing that it had been a figment of her overtired imagination. After all, motherhood was a strange new frontier. Her own mind at times felt unsettlingly foreign. Every thought had to come twice-once for herself, and once for her baby. Every ordinary object became a potential hazard. What if Carmen grabbed this? Swallowed that?

And yet, Deanna slipped into her new role seamlessly. So did Will, to her surprise. For all his insecurities, he took to fatherhood as easily as he had taken to the Enterprise-and with the same temerity as well.

Three more months passed. As Carmen outgrew her newborn days, Deanna began to venture out into the field. Her empathic abilities proved advantageous in the Federation's rocky political climate. Picard often requested her assistance when it came to diplomatic missions.

But just before another run-of-the-mill mission for Deanna, the nightmares returned. The same sinking helplessness beleaguered her sleep night after night. Sometimes, Deanna could even feel the oppressive presence during her waking hours. It was almost as though it were stalking the ship, lurking somewhere out there in the wilderness of space. But why? And what did it have to do with her baby?

* * *

Will strode into his quarters, easing the zipper away from the collar of his uniform. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to unlace his boots, humming a Dixieland tune all the while. It was then he caught sight of a half-packed suitcase, still open and waiting, on the floor by his feet.

"Waiting til the last minute?" he called.

"Shh! Carmen is napping!" Deanna appeared in the threshold, wearing a long, billowy robe. Her fingers moved swiftly through her ebony tresses, weaving them into rows of intricate braids. "And yes. Apparently, you've rubbed off on me."

"Well, it was bound to happen," the commander smirked. "And I'm not sorry that it did."

Deanna cast him a smirk of her own. "Neither am I." She finished one braid, pinned it to her scalp, and then started another.

Will leaned back onto the bed, taken by the soft curves that rose and fell beneath her robe as she stood in the doorway. But the suitcase would not leave his frame of view. He blew out a rueful sigh. "I'm going to miss you, you know."

"Come now," she scolded gently. "It'll only be five days. Unless the negotiations run over, which nobody wants. Trust me, I'd rather be on the Enterprise with you and Carmen. But duty calls." She tried to appear business-like, but something grim settled over her countenance.

"Hey, what's that?" he prompted, noting the change. "Are you worried about the mission?"

"No, no, it isn't that." She pinned another braid down, but instead of starting a new one, she let her hands fall to her sides. "It...it's Carmen."

"Carmen?" Will echoed. "What do you mean? She'll be just fine. I was going to teach her the trombone while you're gone." Deanna threw him a pointed glare, which only made him laugh. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. We'll wait til she can walk first."

A smile broke through Deanna's glare. "Just keep a close eye on her. You will, won't you?"

"Of course I will." He sat up on the edge of the bed. "What are you so worried about, anyways? And don't tell me it's nothing; I may not be an empath, but you're not a good liar. Now come over here..." He extended an upturned hand. Innocent as the gesture was, something glinted in his eyes that was much less innocent.

"Will! You know I can't be late-" But her feet betrayed her, carrying her closer and closer to the bed. Her hand, just as traitorous, found its way into his. She sighed, resigning herself to defeat as their fingers laced together. "It's just...well, it's hard to explain."

He ran his other hand across her cheek. "Try me, imzadi," he whispered.

Deanna looked into his face with a grateful smile. Then she took a deep breath, steeling herself. "There is a..a darkness. I can sense it sometimes, like it's lurking, waiting..."

"Waiting for what?"

"For our baby." Fear gathered in the lines of her forehead. "Please, Will-we can't let anything happen to her. I can't-I can't-"

"Shh, shh," he crooned. "I won't let anything happen to her. Okay? I promise. This darkness-it can't have her. It can't have our daughter. She'll do great things for the Enterprise one day, you'll see." His impassioned words resounded through her empathic mind, rippling out into the very waves of time and space.

"Thank-you," she whispered, comforted at last. Then she closed her eyes and leaned in, grazing his lips with hers. She felt him smile as the kiss neared to an end.

"Hey, didn't you say she was napping?" he said, patting the bed beside him.

She laughed at his brazen suggestion. "Yes, but I have to-" He pulled her in for another kiss before she could finish. His hands strayed beneath the folds of her robe, his mouth soon following suit. A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine. She let herself fall into him, softly as a raindrop, and together they sank back onto the bed.

And for a time-the very last time-all was right with their world.


	5. The Last Piece

Five days. It was only supposed to be five days. But it had been five months, and still the commander did not have his imzadi back. When the Enterprise had returned for her, there was no trace of Deanna. No trace of anything, in fact. No clues, no bodies. Just a dreadfully empty outpost and dreadfully empty hopes.

Picard initially suspected political motivations. Perhaps all the delegates had been taken hostage. Perhaps they were alive and imprisoned somewhere. But as the weeks dragged on, no such evidence surfaced. In fact, every twist and turn during the ensuing investigation only led the Enterprise down dead ends. Deanna was gone. And after five months, Starfleet ordered an official end to the search.

It was with a heavy heart that Picard found himself in front of his first officer's quarters. Normally he would have called him to his ready room to discuss official news. But this was more than official. This was gut-wrenchingly personal.

The door opened. Will stood in the threshold, a ghost of his former self. The past five months had taken a toll on him. He would accept no comfort or company. No food or rest. His shoulders continually hunched as though he needed to lean on something. "Sir?" he prompted.

"May I come in, Number One?"

Will rubbed at his sunken eyes. "Yeah...um...I guess so," he said, shuffling aside to let the captain through. Picard entered, taking a good look around. It was clear that these quarters had once been a loving home. A happy home. Tropical paintings hung on the walls. Orchids decorated little side tables. But the walls and the paintings had lost their warmth. The orchids drooped, forlorn and forgotten, and every blossom had become a shrivelled remain of its former glory. But Picard knew that the outer turmoil merely reflected a much messier inner turmoil.

"Where is Carmen?" he asked, noting a sea of toys that littered the living room floor.

"Beverly's been taking care of her. Just until…" Will trailed off, tears choking the rest of his sentence. Picard's heart sank in his chest.

"Why don't you sit down," he urged, pressing a hand to his first officer's back. "I'll get us something to drink from the replicator."

Will complied, making his way over to the sofa without any attempt at a protest. He heaved himself onto a cushion, staring straight ahead as he waited for Picard to return with the drinks.

Presently the captain extended him a hot glass of tea. Then he settled into an armchair opposite the sofa and for several long minutes, each sought consolation at the bottom of their own beverage. At last, the captain cleared his throat. "Will...I've just heard from the council."

Will's jaw clenched. "What did they want?" he growled.

"They want us to call off the search."

"But we're not going to. Are we?"

Picard tapped the sides of his glass, loathe to answer him. "I'm sorry, but...we have no choice. There is nothing else to go on. It is time for us to return to our other duties-"

"Duties? To hell with our duties! We can't just give up on her!" Will's face pinched together angrily.

"We're stopping the search, but we're not giving up," Picard continued, his composure as even as his voice. "If we come across any sign of her-anything at all-I promise you that we'll follow it through." Setting his tea aside, he rose and made his way over to the commander.

Will's anger wilted into despair. He buried his head in his hands and wept quiet, unrelenting tears. Picard's gaze softened. He rested a heavy hand on his shoulder and kept him silent, faithful company.

"I'm sorry, Will. Truly I am," he said after a time. "But please remember that you are not alone. No one on the Enterprise is ever alone. Your loss was our loss. And your grief is our grief. Take as much time as you need."

His footsteps faded from earshot. But Will didn't even notice him leave. He sat on that sofa for hours, until there were no more tears and only a red-hot agony burning in his chest. It burned a hole through his heart, and everything he was, everything he would have been with her at his side, poured out of this hole.

A profound silence pressed in around him. Never again would her voice break that silence. Never again would he hear her sing to Carmen before bed, or hail him warmly as soon as he stepped into their quarters. He alone would now carry each and every memory that they once shared. He alone would remember their intimate hopes and conversations, their heartfelt vows exalting the sweet dark of night. She had taken a piece of him with her, and forever there would be a poignant void in the space she once filled.

* * *

All night long, Will tried to stay awake. He feared seeing her again in his dreams. And then, come morning, he'd have to lose her again. Briefly he considered going to Ten Forward. But he resented the thought of company that was not hers.

Frustrated and desperate, he began to pace his living room floor in an effort to stave off sleep. Halfway, his foot struck something sharp and wooden. Cursing under his breath, he lifted his foot and peered down at the offender.

A toy Targ looked back at him. Worf had carved it as a gift to Carmen shortly after she was born, and she would often refuse to sleep unless she was holding one of its long, curved tusks. Will picked it up off the floor, his annoyance replaced by guilt. He should have passed it on to Beverly when she took Carmen in.

His thoughts turned to the child, and his guilt burgeoned. As he had lost a wife, she had lost a mother. But the selfishness of grief had taken her father as well. How could he have abandoned her like that? How could he have let himself turn out just like his own father?

With a new and sudden urgency, Will tucked the toy under his arm and left his quarters behind.

* * *

His pace quickened as he neared Beverly's door. He could hear the infant's cries piercing the air, each one ending with a ragged breath. "Beverly?" he called into the intercom. "Beverly, it's me. Can I come in?"

He heard the thumping footsteps of her approach. Then the door opened. "Will! What are you doing awake at this hour?" The doctor stood before him, a far cry from her usual calm and collected self. She bounced a screeching Carmen on her hip, and from the looks of it, neither had gotten any sleep yet.

"I was just...I found this," he said, offering the Targ with one hand while he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly with the other.

Beverly squinted at the toy. "What is it?" she asked, shifting Carmen to her opposite hip.

"She...she likes to sleep with it," he explained.

"Oh, I see." Beverly accepted it with a grateful smile. "Maybe this is the trick to ending her strike on sleep." But when she held it in front of the child's face, Carmen merely swatted at it angrily.

"Well, it was worth a shot," the doctor said, her smile turning wry. "Thanks, anyway. Go get some rest, Will. And don't worry about us-I'll think of something."

Will nodded, biting his lip. "Actually, do you mind if I…?" He held his hands out towards Carmen.

Beverly blinked in surprise. "You want to give it a try?"

"Please."

Happily she obliged, passing off the wailing infant. Will tucked her into the crook of his elbow. "Hey, hey," he scolded. "Worf worked hard on that toy, you know."

Carmen stopped mid-cry. Her eyes searched the face above her. Relief and recognition flooded their tearful depths. She began to croon at him fervently in a language all her own.

"I know, I know," he said. "But I'm here now." He lifted her up so that her head rested against his shoulder. Her arms went around his neck and she nestled into his shirt as though it were a pillow, breathing in his familiar scent. Tears pricked at his eyes all over again.

After clumsily trying to convey his gratitude to Beverly, he wandered down the dim halls towards his own quarters. Carmen fell asleep along the way, her head lolling against him. Will found himself smiling for the first time in months. For in his arms he held the last piece of Deanna, a living, breathing remnant of their love. And in that moment he knew that he would do whatever it took to fulfill his final promise; that he would do whatever it took to protect their daughter from the darkness.


	6. Her Fight

**So sorry for the long delay. It's been rough around here. My dog was killed, and she was only seven years old. I had her since she was a pup. Just two days ago, we decided to take the leap and get another puppy. So my heart has been on the mend, but anyone who has loved a dog knows the kind of pain that comes with losing one. Anyways, I'm grateful to finally get back into writing and "escape" to the Enterprise. I hope you're still with me!**

* * *

Somehow, the days turned into years. The tide of grief ebbed. And for the first time in a long time, Will felt the ground beneath his feet.

He delved into fatherhood with a newfound zeal. Carmen rarely left his sight. She cut her teeth on official Starfleet business. Even during debriefings, she could be found under the table, playing quietly at her father's feet. But as Carmen grew, so did her propensity for trouble.

With the Romulans starting a new war, Will found himself spending more and more hours on the bridge. So it was with great relief when she finally came of age to begin her formal education and have something productive to fill her time.

Will's relief, however, proved to be nothing more than false hope. Her recklessness often led to a stopover in sickbay. Or at the very least, a dreaded page from Ms. Gleaves.

* * *

" _Gleaves to Riker."_

Will had just settled into his chair at the helm. Beside him, a wry grin tugged at the captain's lips. Though these pages were becoming a regular interruption, he held a soft spot for the child that made it easy to overlook such inconveniences. For she served as a reminder to the battle-worn captain of his gentler nature.

Will, much less amused, sank down into his chair. "Riker here," he replied.

" _Could you meet me at my desk? It's about Carmen. Again."_

"Can it wait?"

" _I'm afraid not. I won't be allowing her to continue her studies today."_

Picard offered a sympathetic smile. "Go on, Number One. Things are quiet at the moment. I'm sure the bridge can run without you for a few minutes."

* * *

As Will entered the office, he found Ms. Gleaves sitting behind a massive desk. Carmen faced her, sitting in a much smaller chair and doing her best to slink out of view as her father approached.

"Well? What's this all about?" Will asked. He came to a stop next to Carmen's chair, ignoring the second, empty one meant for him.

"Show him your hands," Ms. Gleaves ordered. Will noticed then that she had been sitting on her hands in order to hide them from view.

"Carmen?" he prompted. She cringed at the sound of her name. But obediently, she pulled her hands out. As she extended them towards him, Will's face flooded with concern. His chest rose with a sharp intake of breath. "What happened? What did you do?" He took hold of her hands to better examine the bloody abrasions, the purple, swollen knuckles.

"I didn't start it," she mumbled.

The cold, hard expression on Ms. Gleaves' face grew even colder and harder. "Didn't start it? The other children said you threw the first punch."

Will's jaw clenched. "You _punched_ somebody?"

"He called me a cheater, daddy! But I would _never_ cheat! Worf said cheating is dishonorable-"

"That's enough," he growled, dropping her hands in disgust. "Ms. Gleaves, we can finish discussing this later. Right now, I need to take her to sickbay."

"I've already called Dr. Crusher. She's busy treating Reynold Clancy in Classroom 8."

"It was Reynold Clancy?" Will frowned, recalling how the boy had just recently lost his father. Many of the children aboard the Enterprise, Carmen included, were down to one parent. If that.

"Yes it was. I expect a verbal and written apology from Carmen. You must see to it that she returns his rock collection as well."

Will sent his daughter a scathing scowl. "You hit him _and_ took his rock collection?"

"I didn't take it," she insisted, folding her arms defensively. "I won it. Fair and square."

"Won it?"

Ms. Gleaves rubbed at her temples with a hissing sigh. "Sir, have you been teaching your daughter poker?"

Will swallowed. His harshness withered, and he looked suddenly as guilt-stricken as the young girl. "Well, uh...yes, as a matter of fact."

"And you think that's an appropriate activity for a seven-year-old?"

"It's just a card game," he deflected.

"She's been teaching the others without my knowledge. Children should not be making wagers, commander. It propagates greed. And greed propagates violence. Your daughter needs to learn that violence is not the answer. That mankind has progressed beyond such...such _barbaric_ behavior."

"I'll have another talk with her, Ms. Gleaves," Will promised.

"I'm afraid a simple lecture will not remedy this sort of behavior. There's more going on here than you realize." She sighed again, and this time, her shoulders sank wearily. "Am I correct that her mother was of Betazoid descent?"

Will stiffened. "Step out, Carmen," he ordered. The young girl glanced between her father and her teacher, concerned by the tension thickening the air.

"But dad-"

"I said step out."

Begrudgingly, Carmen hoisted herself from her seat and shuffled out of the room. Will waited until he heard the door close behind her before proceeding.

"Leave her mother out of this," he warned.

"I meant no disrespect." She attempted to placate him with a smile. "And I know this is a difficult subject for you. But I'm only trying to help. Please...take a seat."

Will glanced at the empty chair beside him. Rigidly, he lowered himself into it. Ms. Gleaves pulled herself closer to her desk.

"Thank you. Now does Carmen have Betazoid blood or not?"

"She does."

Ms. Gleaves nodded gravely. "And have you ever noticed any...special abilities?"

Will tilted his chin upwards. "No, I...I have not."

"Commander…" She clasped her hands together in a fashion that betrayed unease. But Ms. Gleaves? Nervous? "The other day, Carmen approached me after class. We don't exactly see eye to eye, so I was surprised. She asked me about her mother."

It felt like someone dropped a brick in Will's stomach. "What did you tell her?" he hastily asked.

"I told her that she should be asking _you_." Ms. Gleaves' fingers fluttered, breaking through her attempt to be still and business-like. "As I understand it...you don't wish for Carmen to know anything about her mother?"

"You understand correctly."

She waited patiently for him to expound. But when it became clear that he didn't intend to, she leaned further over her desk. "Commander, you can't just pretend that Carmen didn't have a mother. This isn't the way to cope with grief. You're robbing your daughter of-"

"I'm not the one who robbed her!" Will bellowed. Ms. Gleaves shrank back, startled by his sudden outburst. "You think I want to pretend that Deanna didn't exist? I wish Carmen could know everything about her! I wish Carmen could know that her favorite flower was orchids. That she loved the color purple and chocolate sundaes and doing those ridiculous Mok'bara classes with Worf." Tears choked his anger. He fought to steady his breath before continuing. "Those creatures out there...the Borg...I _know_ that's what happened. I _know_ that's who took her. And I've seen it too many times. People come across their loved ones who have been assimilated, and they can't handle it. They can't fight back. Carmen...she's a fighter. Sure, she's reckless and impulsive and a little hard to handle. But I won't let the Borg use Deanna against our own daughter. I won't let them take that fight away. That's why she can never know too much about her mother."

Will turned his head to the side, unwilling to acknowledge the tears that spilled from their banks. Ms. Gleaves fell silent, letting him suffer with dignity. After a time, she summoned the nerve to speak again. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Truly, I am. But there's something else you should know."

Will glanced at her sideways. "What do you mean?"

"About Carmen. I think she has her mother's abilities. She told me that...that you get angry sometimes. When she brings up Deanna." Will closed his eyes and gripped the sides of his chair. Cautiously, Ms. Gleaves continued. "It's understandable, given what you've been through. But _Carmen_ doesn't know what you've been through. She doesn't know how to tell your anger from pain. What if she's internalized it? Guilt is not good for a child to carry. It can create self-loathing. Destructive behavior."

Will's shoulders slumped forward. His eyes glazed over with the smoke of an agonizing fire that once burned hot in his chest. Ms. Gleaves carried on. "If you want Carmen's behavior to change, then you need to deal with what happened. You need to let go of the past, commander. You need to say goodbye."

* * *

Will trudged down the hall, each heavy step leading him farther down the wing of classrooms. For years, he had carried his burden in secret, in silence, unwilling to let it go. And always, he had feared that Carmen would one day become aware of a missing piece and its broken, jagged edges that cut into their lives. He had never meant for her to feel his pain.

Up ahead, one of the doors opened. A woman with flame-colored hair stepped out. "Will!" she hailed. "Did you hear what happened?"

"Yes, I just spoke with Ms. Gleaves," he replied, pulled away from his sullen thoughts. "How is Reynold?"

"He'll be fine." The doctor smiled reassuringly. "A broken nose. Bruised ego. Nothing permanent."

"And Carmen?"

Beverly's smile faltered. "What do you mean? I thought she was with you."

"No. I sent her out here awhile ago."

"Maybe she went ahead to sickbay?" Beverly's hand reached up to tap her combadge. But Will shook his head, expelling a deep breath at the same time.

"It's alright. I think I know where she is."


	7. Scotch on the Rocks

**A/N:** **Overall, thank-you everyone for the well wishes. I will be okay :-). As for this story, there are only three more chapters after this, then I'll be picking back up with my other episode, "Where the Heart Is." It is e** **specially in times like this that I'm so grateful to all of you who enjoy reading these stories, because I certainly enjoy writing them!**

 **Omelettethemusical-Aww thank-you. Wow, what a good, long life your cat had! Thanks for the encouragement. I was indeed worried it was too soon, but animals have a way of nestling into our hearts, don't they? I don't mind telling what happened. We had actually just dropped Scout and our other dog off at the public kennels because we were about to go on this big vacation that we booked months ago. A few hours later, they called to inform us that Scout had escaped. We spent just about all night searching for her. The kennels were out in this small country town, so we had to search miles and miles of big, dark fields. We went home to sleep for a couple of hours and wait til it was light so we could see better. Got a call just before dawn that a farmer had seen her on his property. So we drove out there, but we were too late. We found her on the side of the highway. She'd been hit by a car :-(. Didn't even go on our vacation, we were too upset. It was just a bad situation all around. But I named our new puppy Harper, after Harper Lee, who wrote To Kill a Mockingbird. I named Scout after the main character in that book. So it's kind of my way of honoring her :-).**

 **Bnewall1-Thank you 3**

 **Cubbiesfan1-Thanks for the condolences. It's been rough. Especially for my daughter, since we already had Scout when she was born so she's never known life without her. But by and by, we are doing much better. And thanks for your reviews! I just love the way you look at things and see exactly what I was trying to convey.**

 **Zara08-Haha yeah I always pictured Will getting karma with his own kid being just like him. Fortunately, the new puppy is nothing like young Carmen. Yet. Maybe once she starts teething...lol! I really like what Picard said in one episode, I think it was "Pen Pals." Something about how animals fill spaces we never knew were empty.**

* * *

Rose-gold light floated over the field. As afternoon drowsed into evening, a chorus of crickets and bullfrogs started up to keep the sunset company. Their vocalizations joined the steady humming of a pitching machine. At regular intervals, it spat out a small white ball that sailed over home plate.

Carmen licked her lips, tasting the dust of the infield, as she swung again. _Thwack_. The baseball popped high into the air, its flight unheralded by the young girl. Mechanically, she hit ball after ball until her hands ached, which were still swollen and throbbing from her fight with Reynold Clancy. She wasn't sure how much time had passed before she spied a figure strolling towards her from behind the backstop.

"You're keeping that foot flat again," Will called.

As the next ball shot towards her, Carmen lifted the heel of her back foot and pivoted into the swing.

"There you go. Home run!"

Carmen made no acknowledgment of her father's praise. She merely dropped the bat glumly and stepped away, wiping a sleeve across her dusty face. "There's too much dirt in the air," she mumbled. But Will noticed the dried trail of tears on her cheeks.

"Then let's try something with a little less dirt," he said, smiling patiently. "Computer, end current program and run Riker-McRae One."

The evening light and the neatly trimmed grass and the pitching machine all faded away. Soon, Carmen found herself in front of a wooden stage adorned with soft, crimson curtains. While a band strummed their instruments upon this stage, swanky music and cigar smoke saturated the air. Couples sat at little tables for two, fruity drinks in hand. A few of them danced together nearby with the murmur of intimate conversations.

"What is this place?" Carmen asked, stepping closer to her father amidst the rush of foreign sights and sounds.

"It's a club," he answered. "Somewhere in Chicago, 1940s. Come on, have a drink with me."

He pulled out a chair and helped her climb in. Then he waved down a waiter as he took the seat across from her.

"Yes, sir?" the waiter asked. Carmen admired his white gloves and strange attire. She especially liked the bow that been fixed to the top of his buttoned-up shirt.

"I'll have a scotch on the rocks," Will ordered. "And an apple martini for the lady."

"Coming right up, sir."

As the waiter walked away, his polished shoes clapping against the wooden floor, Carmen played with a napkin on the table. "What's an apple martini?" she asked.

"Just something to sip on. Back then, you wouldn't have been allowed to drink one. But this is the holodeck, so it's harmless. Still-don't tell Ms. Gleaves about it."

"Why wouldn't I have been allowed to drink one?"

"Because of something called alcohol. Our replicators make a fake version, but you can find some form of it in every corner of the galaxy. Promise me you'll never touch the stuff."

"Yeah sure," she said, her eyes wandering about the club as she continued to play absent-mindedly with the napkin.

The band finished their song just as the waiter returned with Will's order. After a scatter of applause, a woman in a black strapless gown took center stage. The man sitting behind the piano struck up a melody. A double bass joined in. The woman let her caramel-colored shoulders roll in time with the music. Her hair was as dark as Carmen's, but she wore it short with sassy little curls. Her tongue flicked across her bright red lips and then she began to sing softly. Her sable eyes closed and the room grew a little quieter, each patron turning an eager ear towards her silken words.

 _No more blues, I'm goin back home,_

 _No, no more blues, I promise no more to roam,_

 _Home is where the heart is,_

 _The funny part is my heart's been right there all along_

She sang the lyrics as if those were the only words she knew. All the while, she caressed the mic as she would the face of a lover. Carmen looked over at her father with a grin. "Hey that's your song, isn't it?"

Will nodded. "Yep. That's her. That's Carmen."

The young girl's brows drew together in confusion. "Her name is Carmen, too?"

"It was actually your mother's idea to name you after her."

At mention of her mother, the child felt a familiar flutter in her belly. She wanted to press him further, but recalled how Ms. Gleaves had asked him something about her mother earlier, and how upset it had made him. Casting her face downward, Carmen slowly slid her hands off the table and back into her lap. "So um...why are you doing all of this? Aren't I supposed to be in trouble?"

"You _are_ in trouble," he quipped. "Don't for a second think I'll forget about this Reynold business. You can't just go around starting fights because someone called you a name, you know."

"I know, I know," she mumbled. "He just-he made me so mad! I'm no cheater! I just played the hand I was given, like you taught me. And when I told him that, he said I was lying. Even though he _knew_ I wasn't lying."

"How would he know that?"

"Because I wasn't lying!"

The commander leaned back in his chair, slowly sipping on his scotch. "Carmen...you can tell when people are lying, can't you? You can...feel it?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, of course. Can't you?"

"No." He shook his head. "Not everyone has that ability. I'm sorry that I haven't...that I never noticed."

"Noticed what?"

"That you're different." He cleared his throat and set his drink on the table. "See, the other kids...they can't feel things the way you feel things. They can only feel what _they're_ feeling, because they're not empaths like you. Like your mother."

The young girl fidgeted in her seat, her mind grasping for understanding. "Mother was different, too?"

"Yes. In many beautiful ways," he said with a wistful smile. Carmen tilted her head to the side. Instead of the usual anger, she could sense something gentle and sad stirring beneath the surface of that smile. As Will's eyes drifted towards the stage, a connection clicked in the child's mind.

"Mother used to come here with you, didn't she?" Immediately, Carmen regretted asking the question. She felt a sharp stab of pain run through him, and it were as though she held the knife. "I'm sorry," she added quickly, her eyes returning to the table.

Will's gaze softened, though she failed to notice. "You felt that, didn't you?" he asked. "You felt me remembering." Biting down on her lip, she nodded. "Well it's nothing to be sorry about. This kind of pain, it's because of something good. It's because of the love your mother and I once shared. Please...don't be sorry that you reminded me of that. The truth is, you've _always_ reminded me of that."

"Really?" She despaired at his confession.

"Yes," he continued. "I thought I had lost everything when I lost her. And then I remembered-I still had you. You pulled me out of hopelessness, Carmen. I wish I had told you that sooner. I wish you could feel how much I love you, and not just my pain."

She bit down on her lip again, this time because it had begun to tremble. "I do feel it," she said tearfully. "And...I love you, too."

Will reached across the table with an upturned hand. "I want you to remember that feeling, okay? No matter what happens. Even if it hurts to remember one day. Promise?"

"I promise."

"Good. Now then..." As she placed her own tiny hand into his palm, he examined the still-fresh bruises across her knuckles. "What do you say to a dance? Just a quick one. Then we'll let Beverly check you out."

Carmen smiled through her tears, and for a moment, Will could see Deanna in the curve of her cheek. "Okay," she agreed. "And dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we do this again sometime?"

His smile waxed brighter, dulling the jagged edge of his pain. "Of course."


	8. Refuge

"Vacarro!" Will shouted, jogging towards the young officer perched at the top of the ridge. "Lieutenant Vacarro!"

Vacarro turned his shoulders to face the approaching commander. Sweat from the humid night air slicked a lock of hair to his forehead. He let the long, rifle-like weapon in his hands droop as his brows pinched together apprehensively. "Please, sir," he pleaded. "We need more time!"

As Will drew up to his side, the chaotic scene below came into view. Huddles of shell-shocked colonists hiked along the ravine floor, assisted by men and women from the Enterprise. Meanwhile, Romulan fire laid waste to the outpost around them and its once magnificent forests. "Well how much longer? Who's left?" Will asked, practically shouting above the thunderous booms of battle.

"Dr. Crusher's team is still clearing out the hospital, but the rest of the settlement should be clear. Sir, if I may…" He glanced nervously at the smoldering horizon. "How will our rescue shuttles be able to leave under this kind of fire?"

"Backup is on its way," the commander assured. "We just have to-" A Romulan craft zoomed overhead, interrupting their exchange. Instinctively, both men dropped to the ground. Shouts of alarm rang out from below.

"The colonists!" Vacarro cried.

Even from the distance, Will could see fear shining in the upturned eyes of the evacuees. They cowered on the ravine floor, nowhere to flee. Mothers covered their children's faces lest they see the harbinger of their fate. Rage and sorrow clashed in the commander's chest.

But then another craft appeared, sleek as a shadow. Will recognized it immediately as one of their own. It arced over the treetops, spinning gracefully out of a barrel roll. The torpedo launcher beneath one of its wings glowed for but a second, then the Romulan fighter exploded. A spectacular blaze seared the night sky.

Vacarro sighed with audible relief. "That was a close one," he mumbled. "Think our fighters will hold up much longer?"

"Yes. And the _K'tempagh_ is almost here," Will said, fumbling slightly with the Klingon ship's name. "They were already in this sector when they heard our call for help. We just have to get everyone aboard the rescue shuttles and ready to go."

From the edge of the woods behind them came the rushing and crashing of footsteps. Both men leapt to their feet with weapons drawn. A blue coat emerged from the thicket, snagged with branches and leaves. Will lowered his phaser. "Oliveri? What are you doing here?"

The medical officer bent over his knees, gulping for breath. "Dr. Crusher...she…she…"

"Dr. Crusher?" Will's throat tightened. "What happened to her? Spit it out!"

"We got them out…" He waved at the line of refugees below. "We got them all out of the hospital. But she went back in."

"Why the hell would she do that?" Will grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to straighten up.

"She...she said she heard something. Had to check it out. I tried to go after her, but the building...it fell apart."

"You mean she's…?" The commander's question came out hoarsely, choked by the threat of losing one of his closest friends.

"She's alive," Oliveri replied. "But she's trapped. Please. We can't leave her behind."

Will swore under his breath. "Vacarro, get everyone to the shuttles."

"And Dr. Crusher?" the lieutenant asked.

"We'll get her. I promise."

* * *

Will and Oliveri raced through the night, the ground beneath them trembling with every blast. The hospital had been on the eastern edge of the settlement, which now lay in ruins. As they came to a stop near the broken outer wall, Will smacked his combadge. "Riker to Crusher. Answer me, damnit."

Though his lungs ached, he held his breath until the doctor's voice came through. " _I'm here, commander. No need to swear_."

He grinned wryly. "Well what do you think you're doing? Why aren't you with the others?"

" _I found one more. His leg broke when the walls came down, and he couldn't follow them out."_

Will eyed the night sky warily. If one of those Romulan fighters should spot them..."Where are you? We don't have much time."

" _We're trapped in what's left of the west wing. I'm clearing out the rubble best I can with my phaser, but it's slow going_."

"Keep at it," Will ordered. "We'll be right there."

The two officers made their way around the corpse of a building until they could hear the muffled blasts of Beverly's phaser. Will nodded, then he and Oliveri set to work. They tossed aside what they could and blasted the heavier chunks of debris with their phasers. Sweat rolled from the commander's brow. Dust clouded the air from their toil. Heave after heave, they dug tirelessly through the wreckage until at long last, they heard Beverly's voice clear as day.

"That's it! I'm sending him through first. Careful, now."

Will squatted down, peering through the makeshift tunnel. A small boy appeared on the other side. _Not much older than Carmen_ , he grimly noted. Dust coated the child's hair, turning it ashen gray. A scrape across his forehead dribbled blood into his fearful brown eyes.

"It's alright," Will coaxed. "You're safe now. I'm here to help."

The boy glanced back at Beverly. She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Go on; you'll be fine."

Obediently, the boy got down on his stomach and began to crawl towards the commander. Beverly urged him on while Oliveri kept nervous watch. As soon as the boy was within reach, Will grabbed his arms and pulled him the rest of the way out. The child winced to be set on his feet again, but tried his best to remain stalwart in the commander's presence.

"You won't be able to walk," Will remarked, taking in the boy's grotesquely bent leg. "But that's alright, I'll just carry you. It isn't far." That last part was a lie, but Will knew the dangers of despair. He had to keep the boy's hopes up.

After helping Beverly come through the tunnel, the group set out on their perilous trek. The last of the refugees had made it through the ravine, leaving the forest dark and still once more. _Wait a minute._ Will glanced about wildly. Dark and still? No weapon fire illuminated the night. No more blasts tore open the ground. The battle had suddenly and ominously ended.

"Commander…?" Oliveri turned around, the question lingering heavy in the air.

Shifting the boy's weight, Will tapped at his combadge. "Riker to Vacarro. Report." But only silence answered him. "I said report, Vacarro!"

The boy cried out suddenly, pointing at something over the commander's shoulder. Will whipped around. A red eye gleamed in the dark, moving steadily towards them. In the dim light of the stars, a sallow, sunken face came into view around the red eye. Then a half humanoid, half mechanical body.

"RUN!" Will bellowed. He held the boy tightly as they fled through the forest, low-hanging branches whipping past them. They climbed higher and higher, skirting the ravine. On the wings of the wind, Will heard a desperate battle waging near the rescue shuttles.

"How did they find us?" Oliveri panted as they came to a stop in a thick copse of trees. Will handed the boy off to Beverly.

"I don't know. But at least they scared the Romulans away."

Oliveri scowled. "How are we going to get to the shuttles? They'll leave if they get the chance. And then what? We'll be stranded! And there's no way we can beam back to the Enterprise; they'll still have their shields up."

Will ruffled the boy's hair, ignoring Oliveri's hopeless ramblings. "Beverly here is going to make sure you get on that shuttle. And I'm going to make sure that the shuttle takes off. I just need you to be brave for a few minutes. Think you can do that?"

The boy nodded, his lower lip trembling.

"Good." Will straightened, tugging at his uniform. He changed out his phaser for a dagger that had been tucked into his belt. "Now...don't look."

And with that, he plunged into the fray. With each stroke of his dagger, he cleared a bloody path for Beverly and Oliveri to follow. Civilians left the safety of the shuttles to help Will and the other officers fight back against the wave of drones. But the tide seemed never-ending. Just as Will slayed one Borg, another took its place.

Then something struck the back of his head. He landed face first in the dirt. A ringing silence filled his ears. A mind-numbing fog wrapped around his thoughts. Just before he slipped away, a single word rolled off his tongue in a half-whispered groan. " _Carmen_ …."

* * *

Voices swarmed around the commander. He bolted upright, sensation and adrenaline returning to his veins. But he found himself back in sickbay, which meant he was back aboard the Enterprise. A boy with curly brown hair sat at the foot of his cot. He said nothing, merely staring up at the commander dolefully. It was the boy Beverly had saved. Will could see his features more clearly now that he had been cleaned up. Gray, standard issue clothing hung from his bony shoulders. His cheeks had lost their color and youthful roundness. Tragedy had dulled his eyes to a dazed and weary luster.

"He wouldn't leave you." A voice drew the commander's attention away. Beverly approached, holding a tricorder and still covered in dust. She smiled at the boy. "It seems you've made a friend."

"What happened?" Will rubbed the back of his head, remembering the thump that had knocked him out.

The smile faded from Beverly's face. "Oliveri saw you go down. He...intervened." She didn't have to tell the rest of the story. Will had heard it before. He swung his legs to the floor and gripped the edge of the mattress, bracing himself for the familiar rush of guilt and grief.

"And Lieutenant Vacarro?"

Beverly shook her head. "He fought bravely. As did the others. In fact, it was two of the colonists who dragged you to safety. Our shuttle was the only one to make it, I'm afraid." Another wave of guilt and grief washed over the commander. _One shuttle. Only a quarter of the colonists we were sent to save._

The boy crawled closer to Will's side, craving comfort but too timorous to ask for it. Will rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You did a good job out there. Thank you."

For the first time, the boy smiled. His eyes searched Will's gaze, imploring him for more comfort, more reassurance. His earnestness brought a smile to the commander's face as well.

"Hey, do you like hot cocoa?" he asked. "I have a daughter about your age. We always make hot cocoa when I return from a mission. Would you like to join us?"

The boy's smile grew. He nodded shyly.

"Alright then. But first, you have to tell me your name."

Bouncing his feet against the side of the cot, he answered in a quiet and barely audible voice, as though unused to speaking to adults. Or speaking in general. "Allan," he whispered. "Allan Sheppard."


	9. Resources

Carmen stared across the table, studying the newcomer intently. He sat beside her father and held a mug of hot cocoa between his hands. Politely, he pretended not to notice her brazen scrutiny. Still, it made him squirm every now and then.

"Drink your hot cocoa, Carmen," Will said sternly. She pursed her lips together to keep from grumbling, but relented and lowered her eyes to the table. The mug in front of her wafted with steam. She could feel its warmth against her palms as she lifted it for a begrudging sip. How could her father have invited this stranger to partake in their sacred tradition? His very presence irked the young girl, unobtrusive though it was.

"How about some sandwiches on the side?" Will offered. "I'll bet you're pretty hungry." The boy nodded eagerly, so Will pushed away from the table. _Be nice_ , he mouthed to Carmen before turning towards the galley-style kitchen. He could've used the replicator, but preparing food the old-fashioned way soothed his soul like no machine ever could.

Once her father had busied himself making sandwiches, Carmen's eyes returned to the boy. She watched him over the rim of her mug, drinking slowly and deliberately. He emitted a squeaky noise as he tried to clear his throat. "Your name is Carmen, right?"

She nodded. "And yours is Allan?"

"That's right." He fumbled for a smile. Weak as it was, only a hopeful sort of sincerity followed in its wake. Carmen's gaze softened. Her father hadn't gone into detail about the mission, but she could feel echoes of their harrowing experience in her empathic senses. These echoes rippled outward from the boy, who appeared very small and very weary all of a sudden.

Sympathy swelled in place of Carmen's crossness. She drummed her fingers against the outside of her mug and searched her mind for something to say. "So...ever been on a starship before?"

"Not a constitution class." He shrugged with one shoulder. "Is it uh...is the Enterprise very big?"

"Forty-two decks," she replied, matter-of-factly.

"Forty-two?" His eyes widened as they wandered about the room with a new appreciation. "And...is this where you live?"

"Mmhmm. I was born here. Where were you born?"

"Earth. Before…"

 _Before it was assimilated._ Carmen finished his sentence in her mind. Both children shuddered at the reminder of that infamous day. "Well what part of Earth?" she asked, keen to keep the conversation going. "My dad was born in Alaska, you know. He said Alaska used to have huge mountains. I mean, bigger than starships. Even bigger than _constitution_ class starships."

"Really?" Allan's smile waxed full. "We didn't have mountains where I lived. We had an ocean. It was called the Pacific Ocean. Ever been to a beach?"

The children prattled on. And from the kitchen counter, Will smiled to himself. It had been a gamble to invite the boy into their lonesome little lives. Carmen's untrained mind had difficulty filtering out emotions that were not her own, and so she often found company to be intrusive. But the boy's company, it seemed, was different. Gentler somehow. Will's gamble had paid off.

* * *

Within a week's time, the Enterprise reached a base where the colonists would be processed and rehomed. The lucky ones would go on to Haven One, a refuge sanctioned by the Federation's council. Others would be reunited with family from other corners of the galaxy. But there would be no one waiting to reunite with the boy, Will knew.

The question of Allan's fate made the commander anxious, and he began to fear how Carmen would handle his departure. Despite the fact that she was several years younger, she had assumed a certain protectiveness over him. Meanwhile, his presence seemed to draw out an uncharacteristically gracious side of her. She would even go so far as to let him win on poker night.

So as soon as he could leave his post, Will set off in search of someone who could give him answers. His search led him to a quiet corridor in a heavily guarded section of the base. A host of officers were coming down the corridor at the same time, led by an older gentleman with peppered hair and the garishly decorated robe of an admiral.

Will stopped in the center of the walkway, his nerves steeled with urgency. The admiral drew himself to a halt, eyeing the commander with an air of guarded aloofness. "Can I help you?"

"Pardon the interruption, Admiral Leyton. I am William Riker, Commander of the Enterprise." He proffered a hand.

"The Enterprise! Ah, yes. How is the debarking coming along?" Leyton smiled at him, but did not reach for his extended hand.

"Fine, sir. But I had a question. It's about one of the colonists-"

"I was just on my way to see your captain, actually. Do you know where I can find Picard?"

"He's in the docking bay, I believe. Sir, there is a boy-"

"Well, keep up! Perhaps I can answer your question on the way." Leyton pushed past the commander, and the small crowd of officers followed suit. Will's chest swelled with indignation as he battled to stay upright. But for Allan's sake, he turned and continued the conversation.

"Sir, one of the colonists we rescued-his family didn't make it. There is no one here to pick him up."

"Pity," the admiral said, though not a trace of pity could be found on his lackadaisical visage.

"Yes, but he hasn't been approved to go to Haven One, either. I'd like to know, sir...what will become of the boy?"

Leyton nodded a greeting to a guard standing watch at the end of the corridor. Just beyond, the floor opened up to a waiting area of some sort, with rows and rows of plastic chairs and weary faces. "You said he is an orphan?" the admiral asked.

"He is, sir," Will replied. A muscle in his jaw began to pulse angrily at such casual use of the word.

"Then he is the council's burden, not yours."

They passed through the waiting room and into another corridor. This one was wider, but shorter. It acted as a terminal into the docking bay. "Sir, please," Will beseeched, forcing the word from his mouth. He despised the taste of forced subservience. "If I may...I would like to make the boy my ward. I am willing to take full responsibility for him-"

"No, no," Leyton declined. "Starfleet needs him now."

"Starfleet? You don't understand...he's...he's just a child."

"Exactly."

Will froze. His blood ran cold. But Leyton and his officers carried on without him, heading towards the docking bay. "Sir!" he called, scrambling to catch up. "What did you mean by that?"

Leyton sighed peevishly. "These are dire times, commander. We must utilize our resources wisely. And right now, orphans are one of our greatest resources."

Will's blood went from cold to hot. Boiling hot. He moved himself in front of the admiral, forcing him to stop. "With all due respect, _sir,_ " he growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Children are not resources. They're the future."

"And without more soldiers, we _have_ no future." Leyton stared back at him evenly, his aloofness returning.

"Soldiers? You can't just-" But Will was interrupted by a furious female voice. Her protests echoed throughout the docking bay, drawing forth a crowd of curious onlookers. Turning his head, the commander spied two officers struggling to control a red-haired woman between them. It was Beverly Crusher.

"I don't give a damn what you do with me!" she snarled. "I won't comply!" Will raced over to her, grabbing one of the officer's shoulders and shoving him roughly aside.

"Hey!" he bellowed, interposing himself between Beverly and the guard. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Will!" Beverly's face flooded with hope. "Will, they're making me go with them!"

"Go? Go where?"

"Stand down, commander!" Leyton's rebuke rang out sharply. "They were merely acting under my orders."

Murmurs of intrigue rose up from the crowd, which had grown exponentially with Will's involvement. A few of the murmurs turned into cries of dismay as Captain Picard pushed his way through. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"I was just about to find out," Will said, squaring his shoulders towards the admiral.

Leyton came to a stop upon sight of the captain. "Ah, Picard. Just the man I was looking for," he said, paying no heed to the commander's imposing glower. "I had meant to speak with you personally before this turned into a debacle. But, well, here we are."

Picard's shoulders rose with a curt breath. "What do you want with Beverly?"

Leyton chuckled, which only infuriated the Enterprise's men. "Not the type to mince words, are you, Captain Picard? Well, she has been slated for Haven One. We are in need of doctors with her extensive experience. And seeing as you've had nothing but accolades for Dr. Crusher...we decided she would be a beneficial addition."

"The Enterprise needs me!" Beverly cried. "Haven't we lost enough people for the sake of Haven One? How can you be so pious as to decide who is worth keeping? I will not go peaceably. I will not do your bidding."

"I understand that goodbyes are difficult." Leyton clasped his hands together in a show of mock sympathy, then nodded towards his men to continue. "But we must all make sacrifices. I wish you the best, doctor."

Despite her protests, the guards dragged her away. Picard stepped forward brashly, only to be stopped by another guard. "Picard," Leyton warned. "I know how close a crew can become in the midst of immeasurable tragedy. They need their leader now more than ever. If I were you, I'd be careful in your battles."

Picard seethed in helpless silence, shrewd enough to know that the admiral had not been talking about battles with the enemy. Several paces away, Will clenched his fists until his fingernails dug into his palms. Though he wanted more than anything to wipe that look of smug superiority off of the admiral's face, he knew that ultimately, Carmen would be the one punished for it. He still had a daughter to think about. A daughter who was not one of Leyton's resources yet.

And so Leyton and his men got away, unscathed. Eventually the crowd dissipated. Only Will and Picard remained behind, each waging a private war against despair. Will would have to return to the Enterprise and explain to his daughter why they would never see Allan again. Never see Beverly again. He would have to watch her face as life stole a few more pieces of her broken heart.

A stone sank in his stomach. What if something happened to him? What if the council came for Carmen? She would never make it. The young empath could barely make it through red alerts. The widespread panic would often overwhelm her, cripple her ability to think clearly. To send her to battle would be to send her to her death.

And Beverly...his heart ached with anger. She had made life bearable for the commander. Beverly had lost her husband years ago to a different war, and so she always treated Will's grieving with a special sort of sympathy. Her absence would leave a gaping hole in the lives of those aboard the Enterprise. Particularly the captain's. Will suspected that Beverly and Picard had outgrown their friendship long ago, though neither had ever made a public acknowledgment of the fact. _How terrible_ , Will thought. _To hold yourself back like that._ It was probably to save themselves the pain, he knew. But looking at the captain, he could see that it had all been for naught. For the pain did not spare him after all.

* * *

 **A/N: Only one more chapter! Though there will be an epilogue of sorts at the end of it; I've already written that part actually. So stay tuned! :-)**


	10. Broken Pieces

**A/N: Sorry this one took so long! It was a beast! I hope I do the finale of this universe justice. Heads up, there will be a brief epilogue. I'm going to post it right after this since I've already written it (just have to upload and all that).**

 **Bnewall1-Yes! It was actually my way of showing that in Carmen's universe, their technology was stunted by the war. Course, I realize now that there would probably have to be changes like in the number of decks and whatnot. But I wanted to throw that in there since Leyton would be referencing scarce resources, and also because in the current timeline Carmen is repeatedly confused by the newer technology. I run every chapter by my husband, and he was like, "No one's going to get that." And I was like "DON'T YOU UNDERESTIMATE MY READERS!" So thank-you for proving him wrong haha :-D You are awesome!**

 **JWood201-I really enjoyed your review! Ahh I'm excited that you've been enjoying it all so far, as dark and terrible as this timeline is lol. Also loved what you said about Beverly. It's true, I wanted to give her a bit of a spotlight in this one. Looking forward to hearing from you more!**

 **Zara08-Your review made my day! Omg, thank you so much! I hope you keep liking it all, and I promise to keep writing! :-)**

* * *

Will heaved himself into a chair at the little kitchen table. Sighing deeply, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, which had been rumpled from his attempt at sleep. Though silence filled his quarters, wrapping around him like a heavy blanket, echoes of a long-lost voice still bounded through his mind. He closed his eyes and remembered vividly the scent of her hair, the dimple on her chin when she laughed at him, the gentleness of her fingertips running beneath the sheets.

"I wish you were here, imzadi," he said in a grating whisper. His shoulders caved as he sank over the table, resting his forehead against its cool surface. "You'd know what to do."

It had been a year since Beverly was removed from the Enterprise. A year since the boy, Allan Sheppard, was marched off to one of Leyton's training camps. And since then, the council had only continued to take. Tomorrow, they would come for Data. " _The entire history of our Federation is contained within that bionic mind of his. If Haven One is to be our future, then we will need the android as a living link to our past. We will need that cold, hard logic to steer us in the safest direction as mankind seeks to rebuild."_ Will scoffed aloud as he recalled the councilman's words. And what about the rest of them? Would they ever be deemed worthy enough to have a future? Will had chosen this life, chosen a future plagued with danger. But while he wore the marks of a commander, it was his daughter who wore the marks of war.

Deanna's hands reached into his mind again. He breathed in sharply. "I know you wanted better for her," he said. "But she...she's brave. Brave like you. And a pain in the neck like me." He made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Serves me right. That's what you'd say, anyways. I just...I miss you. That's all. I miss you so much."

Will wept softly as memories continued to dance through his thoughts. He could see crystal clear water tumbling down a mountainside. He could see a canopy of stars shining back at him in the depths of Deanna's eyes. But that place had become a desert, the place where their souls used to touch. Only ghosts and shadows lived there now, haunting Will's sleep with all that he'd lost...

A pan rattled against the stovetop. Will jerked awake, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from his eyes. He must have drifted off in the midst of his mourning.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up." Carmen sent him a sheepish grin. She stood before the stove with an enormous bowl tucked under one arm. Lumps of batter dripped from the edges of this bowl and stuck to the front of her pajamas.

"What are you doing?" Will asked, stifling a yawn. A blanket fell from his shoulders, landing in a crumpled pile on the kitchen floor.

"Making breakfast." Carmen dropped a glob of batter onto the pan and it began to sizzle furiously.

"Breakfast?" He glanced at the clock above the replicator. "At this hour? You should be in bed!"

" _You_ should be in bed," she countered, setting the bowl down and wiping her hands on a nearby towel. Then she picked the blanket up off the floor and draped it across his shoulders.

"I'm fine," he insisted, shirking it off.

Carmen planted her hands on her hips. "You're exhausted. And probably starving. You-"

"Just pass me that bowl, would you? It looks like it needs more whisking."

The rest of Carmen's retort never made it past her lips. Happily, she cast off her defiance and handed him the bowl. "Hey, can you make your Jibalian scramble on the side?" she asked. "I always burn the eggs whenever I try."

"Sure. And I'll show you a little trick to keep them from burning…"

The pancakes turned out delicious. And not a single egg burned. After breakfast, the two played a Ferengi card game until it was time for Carmen's schooling. Will helped her get ready and then walked her to the wing of classrooms. He watched her raven-dark hair bounce with every step as she skipped to her seat. "Be good!" he called.

"Yeah, sure," she smirked, waving goodbye. He shook his head, grinning wryly, and disappeared from her frame of view.

It was the last time she would see her father alive.

* * *

"How's it looking out there?" Will asked as he arrived at the bridge. A handful of officers looked up from their posts, weary and ready for shift change.

"All quiet, sir," Ensign Baines reported from navigation. Will strode over to his console, scanning the readouts thoughtfully.

"And when do we rendezvous with the Jemison?" he asked, leaning over his propped up leg.

"Eleven hundred hours. We should be receiving updated coordinates from them soon." Will nodded, satisfied with the answer but not with the news. For the Jemison's arrival would signify Data's departure. "Sir-" Baines prompted. "Would you like me to notify the captain?"

"No," Will declined. "The captain is not to be disturbed. I'll notify him myself in a few hours." Walking over to his chair, Will pictured Data and Picard gallivanting through the holodeck on another Sherlock Holmes adventure. It had been Data's last request, and so of course the captain had indulged him. He would have indulged him anyways, Will knew. Picard held a certain, unspoken affinity for the android. He had come to rely on his sound logic in times of trouble. And teaching him the importance of things like gut feelings, loyalty, and compassion-things that have no sound logic-had left an undeniable imprint on them both. Data's absence would be another devastating blow to the Enterprise.

The beginning of Will's shift passed without incident. As eleven hundred hours crept closer, Picard finally made an appearance on the bridge. He stepped off the turbolift as though his feet were made of lead. "I'll...I'll be in my ready room," he announced. And nothing more.

Will exchanged a glance with Worf. "You have the bridge," he said quickly, quietly. Then he followed the captain to his ready room.

Once inside, he saw Picard standing in front of his desk, his back to the commander. He stared down at a book, its pages yellowed and beginning to curl. His fingers brushed over it fondly. "It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important," he mumbled. Then he turned his head to look at Will. "Beverly wrote that. Well, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle did first. But she wrote that on the inside of this book when she gave it to me. It was one of her favorite passages." He picked up the book, and Will could make out the title in faded gold letters. _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes._

"This is what started it all," Picard continued. "This is the first book I loaned him. When he returned it to me afterwards, I was surprised by how many questions he had." He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "Strange that something made of dispassionate metal should possess such...curiosity."

Will smiled. "I know what you mean, sir. Sometimes, I'd swear he was more human than most of us."

Picard grunted in agreement. Then he set the book down again and lowered himself into the padded office chair. "They'll be here soon?"

"Yes, sir. Any minute."

"Well at least Beverly will have some familiar company." He put the book in a drawer, casting it one final, loving glance before closing it up out of sight. "She tried, you know."

Will's brow furrowed. "Tried what, sir?"

Picard's jaw worked for a minute before the answer came out. "I never told you this, but...she tried to convince the council to let Carmen come and live with her."

"Carmen?" Will repeated, stunned. "On Haven One?"

"I never told you, for fear that you might take it the wrong way. I know Carmen is all you have left, but I assure you, Beverly just wanted what was best for the girl." An apologetic smile flitted across his face. "She-"

"I know, sir." Will turned away. A stubborn lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to speak. "You don't have to explain. I only wish...I wish I could thank her. For a lot of things."

"Me, too," the captain admitted. His eyes faded into the distance. "...like breakfast."

Will's head jerked to the side."Breakfast, sir?"

"Beverly used to meet me for breakfast every morning," he explained. "It was a quiet tradition, a lovely tradition. But I never told her how much it meant to me. It was one of those little things, I suppose. One of those infinitely important things."

"Yes, sir." A wistful smile grew across Will's face. He felt a sense of solidarity in the captain's words, in the captain's regret. He knew that kind of ruefulness intimately.

" _Captain, the Jemison has arrived._ " Baines announced, breaking the bittersweet lull in conversation.

Picard cleared his throat. "It is time."

* * *

The commander accompanied Picard on his way to the transport room. It was not often he got the chance to say goodbye. Still, he wasn't sure if he was ready or not.

The floor beneath them jolted suddenly. Both men pitched forward, sprawling out over the hallway. Klaxons sounded above with an urgent warning.

"Riker to Worf!" Will shouted, drawing his knees beneath him. "What's happening?"

" _They came out of nowhere, sir! Waited until the shields were lowered for transport. They must have followed the Jemison-"_

"Who?" Will cried.

"The Borg…" Picard gasped.

Will followed his horrified gaze to find a line of Borg drones marching towards them from the end of the hall. Mechanical appendages hung from their pallid bodies. Each moved in calculated precision, chanting the same death song that Will had heard a hundred times. _"Resistance is futile...assimilate or perish...resistance is futile…"_

"I'll hold them off!" Will shouted, moving between Picard and the drones. With one hand, he helped the captain to his feet. With the other, he brandished a modified phaser. "We have to get to the turbolift," he urged. Then he fired once. Twice. The foremost drone dropped to the ground. The one behind it stepped over the body without a glance back.

Both men backed down the hall, retreating the way they had come. The ship rocked beneath their feet in the throes of battle. " _Shield are up again, sir_ ," came Worf's voice. _"Thanks to the Jemison. We're holding them off best we can, but they've boarded the ship-"_

"Are they on the bridge?"

" _Negative, sir. Where is the captain?"_

"With me. I'm sending him up."

Will had reached the turbolift. By then, the drones had modified their shields to the frequency of his phaser, rendering it useless. He shoved the captain inside the turbolift, but did not follow. "Quickly! They're right behind!" Picard warned.

"I know, sir. I won't let them follow."

"But-Will!" He snatched at his first officer's arm, but Will had already retreated back into the hall. "WILL!"

The turbolift doors closed. "Worf-" Will turned his shoulders to face the onslaught of drones. "Seal off the turbolift as soon as Picard reaches the bridge."

" _Aye aye, sir."_

Will wiped his face with his shoulder, ridding himself of the sweat that had begun to gather. "I'm sorry, Carmen," he whispered. And then he plunged into the merciless tide of drones.

* * *

It felt like Will had been in that hallway for an eternity. Blood streamed down his face from a close call with one of the drones' bladed appendages. Four down. One to go. So long as the shields held, he stood a chance. He'd faced these kinds of odds before. A small flame of hope flickered in the back of his mind.

The ship around him quaked in a battle of its own. The final drone advanced. He slashed his blade in front of him, warding them back. But just then, the ground bucked. He slammed into the wall, smacking his head with a sound akin to a baseball being struck into the outfield. The blade dropped from his hand. Stars filled his vision. He staggered backwards, wondering if it was his balance or the ship that was making it hard to regain his footing.

An ice cold hand clutched his arm, clamping down with a vice-like grip. "No!" he snarled. The ship took another hit, and this time, both Will and the drone went sailing to the ground.

He kicked away from them, shooting his hands out to feel for the knife he had dropped. _Run!_ The thought echoed inside of his head. But it was not his own. It came from the desert, from a forlorn and forgotten place in the hinterland of his mind. The vice-like grip had his leg now, and began dragging him back within reach.

He flipped over, kicking at the drone with his free leg. His foot lashed them across the face, and their grip released. Will coiled his legs beneath him, ready to strike again. But then he froze.

Slowly, the drone swivelled its head back towards the commander. Its eyes, sunken deep in its skull, met his gaze. Dark eyes. Betazoid eyes. _I said run, imzadi!_

The breath left his chest. His legs buckled beneath him. He slumped against the wall, unable to move. _Deanna?_ he called out into the desert.

And she was there. He could feel her wounded presence, her bitter struggle. _I cannot stop myself. You must run._

A spring of tears flowed from that barren place, collecting in the corners of his eyes and pouring down his cheeks. _No. I can't say goodbye. Not to you._ Tentatively, he reached out. A shudder seized him as he felt her skin beneath his hand, cold as a corpse. But he remembered the curve of that cheek. The slope of that chin.

Something fluttered faintly behind her eyes. Her lips parted as though to speak. And for a few fleeting moments, Will found himself back in the jungle. A cool breeze brushed the back of his neck, followed by her fingers. She kissed him to the sound of the falls, and his arms wrapped around her naked waist. But even as he pulled her against him, he could feel her slipping away. The moonlight dimmed. The falls disappeared. And her hand lifted, trembling violently as it pointed a phaser-like weapon at his chest. "Resistance...is…."

"It's alright. I won't resist," he said in a broken, jagged whisper. He cupped her face in his hands and closed his eyes. "I love you, imzadi. I love you more than life itself."

* * *

Picard hung his head. He heard none of the chaos around him as sickbay filled with casualties. The victory had been won, but at a steep price.

"He was a true warrior," Worf said, drawing himself up beside the captain and gazing at the bloody body below. Will's body. "He will be honored as such."

"It was instantaneous, they say." Picard spoke in a low whisper, almost as if he were speaking to himself. "Right through the heart. But we may never know what killed her. Not officially, anyways." His gaze shifted to the body beside Will's. A Borg body. Female. No fatal injuries could be seen on its surface, yet they had found her beside the commander, just as lifeless.

"Will you tell the girl?" Worf inquired.

"No. She must never know of her mother's role in this." The captain shook his head. "She will have enough to contend with in the coming days."

"Indeed."

A flurry of shouts drew their attention away from the bodies. Picard looked over to find Carmen frantically fighting her way through the crowd. His heart thudded in his chest. "No-Mister Worf! Do not let her see!"

She broke free and bolted straight for her father. But Worf snatched her up, lifting her high into the air. "Daddy! No!" she cried, her hand still outstretched towards his. _"Daddy!"_

Her screams followed them out of sickbay. Worf tried to set her down once they were in the hall, but she thrashed against him so violently that he dropped her instead. "Carmen! Wait!" he bellowed. But she had already taken off, running down the corridor like she had never run in her life. And as she fled, another broken piece of her soul fell away, drifting on the winds of fate and into the expanse of time and space itself.


	11. Epilogue (The Crash)

_**Ten years later…**_

The smell of smoke filled her nostrils. Carmen lay slumped over the controls, blood running through her raven-dark hair and into her eyes. Roaring flames closed in from all sides. Embers dropped onto her back with the crackle and hiss of burning flesh. She tried to move, but found her muscles unwilling to obey. Death was coming for her, close enough to breathe down her neck...

Then someone was pulling her out of the wreckage. Carmen caught glimpses of a forest floor as she hung from their shoulder. They carried her away from the crash, away from the flames that were supposed to be her funeral pyre. _No! How dare you!_ But she found herself too weak to cry out, too weak to protest the unjustness of her rescue.

She had no idea how long it had been, how far they had gone, when they finally stopped. But next thing she knew, her body was sinking to the ground like a dull and heavy weight. "She's in bad shape," someone remarked. Their voice sounded faint and far away, as though it were drifting towards her through a dream. It almost sounded like Geordi, but it couldn't be Geordi. She had just watched him die. She had just watched them all die. Now here she lay, so cruelly prevented from joining them.

There was a chirp of a combadge and then someone else spoke. "Do you have a lock on us? The survivor is in need of immediate medical attention."

Carmen's blood ran cold, even as her skin smoldered with flames. She knew that voice, too. " _Dad?_ " she tried to say, but it merely came out as a groan.

"Lie still. Everything's going to be alright," he promised. Mustering all her strength, she cracked her eyes open. And there, looking back at her, was the face that haunted her memories. The face she had wanted more than anything to forget. The face of William T. Riker.

The shock was too great. She shuddered violently and then, as someone answered his page, Carmen found herself plunging into the darkness once more.

* * *

 **A/N: For those who don't know, this has actually been a spin off of my first Star Trek story, "Somewhere Out There." In a sense, it's like a prequel. If you want to find out what happened to Carmen (both before and after the crash), then her story continues there :-). To my readers who have already been following along, I'm so excited to get back into the current storyline. I'll be picking up with the next chapter of "Where the Heart Is" soon. I hope to see you there :-)**


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